


Small Soldiers In Large Landscapes

by blakeisbaby



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gibson's Real Name Is Philippe Hugo Guillet, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, this is a me only fic but you guys can look if you want, this shit is gonna get so tender oh boy howdy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakeisbaby/pseuds/blakeisbaby
Summary: Tommy has tattoos on both of his wrists. It's rare, but not unheard of. Some people think he's lucky, to have the chance to have two soulmates. Others tell him it's a curse, that no one can ever love two people equally. He doesn't lean on either side, he simply wants to meet them, finally look into the eyes of the two people his heart belongs to.Alex has always been a romantic. Ever since he was a child, he would bore whoever had the displeasure of being around him with made-up stories about his two future lovers. He's always felt his emotions loudly and unapologetically and he dreams of the day he will finally hold them both, finally able to express the feelings that have been growing inside of him during all these years.Philippe never thought he would get the chance to meet his soulmates. How could a poor boy from a rural town in France ever meet two Englishmen? As he grows up he learns to find peace in the idea that his loves will find each other and be happy, even if they are missing their third piece. He never expected a war would be his chance at finding them.
Relationships: Alex/Gibson/Tommy (Dunkirk)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me, snatching the movie from Mr. Nolan’s hands: THAnk you. This is mine now. The second chapter is only going to be a soft and sweet epilogue uwu <3

Alex is going to get crushed to death by the very same boat that was supposed to bring him home. As hard as he tries, he can’t swim fast enough to get out of the way of the sinking ship. He can already feel the metal of the hull pushing him towards the Mole 

Then suddenly there’s a hand in front of him, and Alex grabs hold of it with all his might. The other soldier pulls him into safety, helping him grab hold of the lowest wooden beam of the Mole. Alex can only nod his thanks, too out of breath and dazed to speak.

Tommy nods back and keeps trying to help more soldiers out of the water. Next to him, Gibson is doing the same, both boys trying to ignore the noises coming from the boat that’s sinking fast, too fast. It barely takes a few minutes for the ship to sink completely, the last of the survivor swimming towards the Mole. 

Tommy and Gibson look at each other then, and with a nod, they submerge themselves into the water. Alex can't help but smile at them once they come out, blending seamlessly with the other soldiers. 

“Clever bastards.” He can't help but whisper to himself.

After the commotion, the remaining soldiers are brought to a smaller boat that will bring them to another destroyer. Alex follows his two new companions silently, curious to see if their plan will work.

Cargo nets are dropped over the side of the destroyer and the men start to climb them with difficulty, struggling to pull themselves up. Alex climbs first, his movements confident despite his exhaustion. Tommy follows him, stepping up on the railing at the same as another soldier who looks more like a ghost than a man. Tommy helps the man stand up fully, squeezing his shoulder in a meager effort to reassure him.

They’ve barely started to climb when the other soldier loses his footing, falling several feet below. And as the sea rocks the boats, the man legs get crushed in a sickening sound. He screams, the sound blood curling, and the soldiers next to the gab pull him up.

Tommy wants to throw up. Instead, he keeps climbing, pointedly not looking down. He collapses once he reaches the deck, his muscles burning. Alex is there then, offering him his hands. He takes it gratefully, letting the Highlander pull him up. Gibson reaches the deck next, breathing hard as he joins them.

They have ushered along, sailors and nurses urging them to move below deck. They follow the other soldiers towards a doorway that leads to a set of stairs. There’s a nurse standing there, gently talking to the men who are going down. “Come on, boys. There’s a nice cup of tea for you down there. This way, come on.”

Alex goes down without hesitation and Tommy’s steps flatter for a brief moment before he follows him. He doesn’t notice Gibson slipping away behind him, refusing to go below deck.

They are given a cup of tea and a piece of bread with some jam on it. Tommy has to contain himself not to eat it all in one bite. He looks around, frowning when he can’t see Gibson.

Alex walks up to him, gesturing towards the stairs. “What’s wrong with your friend?”

Tommy watches as the door to the latch snaps closed as he takes another bite of his food. This time it settles uneasily in his stomach, the sweet jam tasting more like acid.

“Looking for a quick way out.” He swallows hard. “In case we go down.”

It takes them both a moment to register what the other said. Tommy is the first one to notice, going stock still. He looks at Alex with wide eyes, unsure if it’s mere coincidence or if fate really is this cruel. The other boy catches on quickly, hands flying to pull up his right sleeve, revealing his soul mark. Tommy gasps as he sees the sentence he just said, written in his own scratchy handwriting, tattooed on the other boy’s wrist.

He mimics Alex's gesture, pulling up his own right sleeve. The words the other boy just said tattooed on his own skin in small and neat letters. They stand there in complete shock, unsure of what to do.

“I’m Alex.” The boy extends his hand and Tommy shakes it, still a bit dumbfounded.

“Tommy.”

Alex opens his mouth to speak, lips still stretched in a wide smile, when the shout of a man interrupts him.

“Torpedo!”

Their quiet moment of peace is abruptly broken by an horribly loud sound as the torpedo hits the hull of the ship. They can almost feel the metal of the wall collapsing, the water rushing in fast. The sound of it so loud it drowns the screams of the men around them. Alex grabs Tommy’s arm just as the lights go out, leaving them in complete darkness. It barely takes a few seconds for the water to rise above their heads, barely giving them time to take one last breath. Tommy tries to swim desperately towards where he remembers the stairs being, Alex still clinging to him. It’s almost impossible to make any progress in the darkness, the limbs of other soldiers hitting them every time they move.

Tommy can feel himself grow weaker, black dotting his vision as air starts to leave his lungs more and more. Alex’s grip on him is going lax, his fingers barely holding on to the fabric of his shirt. And then all of a sudden there’s light above them, the silhouette of a man standing in the middle of it, waving his arms frantically. Tommy’s never been religious, but he can’t describe the shadow as anything else than angelic.

They make it out of the hull with big gulps of air, clinging to the railing of the ship to hoist themself as far away as they can. For a moment they can only stare at each other, life jacket barely keeping their head over the water as the world around them burns. Alex is the first one to see the rowboat in the distance, and he wordlessly points them out to Tommy. Both boys start to swim towards them, their exhaustion makes their limbs heavy and their progress slow and laborious. Tommy recognizes Gibson in the boat closest to them, the other is extending his hand forward, leaning so far out the railing he looks like he’s second away from falling overboard.

Tommy swims towards him with renewed vigor, extending his own hand as he draws near. Gibson grabs him solidly and drags him to the side of the boat. He’s pulled Tommy halfway out the water before another man pushes him back, breaking their connection. He sees Alex try to climb on from the side of the boat, but another soldier pushes him hard into the water, leaving the boy to sputter for a few moments. Tommy snarls at the harsh action, but nobody notices him, the soldiers on the boat are talking nonsense about being too full and that they need to stay calm.

“Calm?!” Alex yells. “Wait till you get torpedoed, then tell us to be calm!”

The man in charge looks at Alex with disinterest. “You have life jackets?”

Another soldier answer in affirmative, not giving them a chance to speak. The man nods and barely looks at them as he speaks. “Don’t panic, the water’s not too rough, or too cold. We’re heading back to the beach -”

He gets interrupted by the shouts of the other soldiers on the boat. They insist they can row to Dover, that they don’t need to go back to the beach. The commotion lasts for a moment, but eventually, the soldiers seem to settle down, the standing man clearly their superior. Too busy arguing, the men don’t notice that Gibson throws a rope into the dark water. Alex reaches it first and grabs Tommy by the arm as the men start to row. They stay quiet as the boat slowly makes its way towards the shore.

Dawn is barely breaking when they reach the beach of Dunkirk. As soon as their feet touch the sand, Alex lets go of the rope, intent on walking towards a less crowded part of the beach. He has to drag Tommy alongside him, the younger boy barely even conscious anymore. Gibson jumps into the water with them, grabbing Tommy’s other arm. 

“Thank you.” Alex’s voice is barely above a whisper and he cringes at how raspy it sounds. Gibson looks at him with wide eyes, he opens his mouth to say something but snaps it shut before he can make a sound. He looks down at the water quietly and Alex rolls his eyes, the gesture a weird mixture between fondness and annoyance. Gibson is strange, but he’s saved their lives more than once, so he can’t complain.

The water is still up to their ankles when Alex collapses, falling face-first into the sand. He doesn’t bother getting up, he knows he doesn’t have the strength to. Gibson struggles to hold Tommy on his own and falls on his knees not two steps later. He lets the younger boy drop on him, mindful not to hurt him as his own strength starts to fade. He lays Tommy on the sand as gently as he can and before long, the three boys are asleep, the discomfort of their position barely noticeable in comparison to their exhaustion.

Tommy is the first one to wake up. The sun is high in the sky and the tide is far behind them. It must be close to noon then. His stomach churns painfully, the single piece of jam and bread he had last night is long gone. He looks toward the houses, farther down the beach, and considers his option. He could wake up his companions, the three of them would have more chance of finding something if they cover more ground. But Gibson is smart and careful, he would probably object, tell him it’s a bad idea. And Alex…

Alex is brave and bold, and he’s his soulmate. Tommy feels like he needs to prove himself, to show him that he’s worth keeping. It’s with renewed determination that he takes off his life jacket and heads toward the burning town. 

If there’s one thing Tommy knows, it’s that he's small and fast. He knows how to take advantage of his height as he brushes against the walls of half-destroyed houses, trying to keep to the shadows. Everything is too quiet, his footsteps feel as loud as the bomb that rains on them at the beach. He hops from houses to houses, rummaging through cupboards and cabinets as fast as he can.

He’s in what must be the tenth house when he finally, finally finds something. It's a large tin can, the label of it is long gone but it's heavy, still full. Tommy can't help but smile as he cradles his precious find close to his chest. Alex and Gibson are going to be so proud of him.

“Ihr zwei, schau mal da rüber.” 

Tommy goes completely still, holding his breath. The voice is still far, but he can’t take any chances, he can hear the scrape of boots on the ground if he strains his ears. He stays crouched as he walks towards the front door of the house he’s in. Clutching the can close to his heart, he takes a deep breath to steel himself before he steps outside, trying to keep himself concealed in between ruined buildings.

He can see the edges of the sand dunes when the first shot rings out. He jumps out of his skin, dropping the tin in his surprise. It falls to the ground and starts to slowly roll away from him, towards the open road. Tommy runs after it, grabbing it just as a second shot echoes in the empty street. He sees the bullet ricochet on the pavement not two feet in front of him.

He starts to run, not bothering to look where the gunshots are coming from and ducks into the first alley he sees. He keeps running, the back streets twisting and turning, and Tommy feels like he’s stuck in some sort of wicked maze. Finally, after what feels like hours but was most likely only a few minutes, he finds a small path in between two houses that leads back to the beach. He finally stops running as he passes the dunes, breathing heavily. A few soldiers farther from the shore spare him a short glance, but they pay him no mind. Still, Tommy feels like he needs to hide his precious cargo, so he hides the big tin under his coat as best as he can, hoping that no one takes notice of it.

He’s closer to the Mole than he expected and he has to walk for a few minutes, trying to get his breathing under control, before he finally spots his companions on a less crowded part of the beach. Gibson is sitting down, arms crossed tightly as he watches the dunes intently. Next to him, Alex is walking in a circle, hands gesturing wildly. Judging by the mark on the sand, he’s been at it for a while.

Gibson is the first one to see him, eyes going wide as he gets up abruptly. Alex, alerted by the movement, stops pacing, hands falling to his sides. For a moment everything stands still, Alex and Gibson staring wordlessly at Tommy while the boy looks at the ground, biting his lips and not daring to meet their eyes.

“Fuck!” Alex yells suddenly, sounding furious. He runs towards him and Tommy flinches slightly, almost as if he’s expecting a blow once the other boy reaches him. “Never do that again, do you understand?” Alex says as he grabs him roughly by the shoulders, and Tommy realizes that his soulmate isn’t angry, he's terrified.

The younger boy stays silent as he nods, feeling like whatever apology he can come up with won’t be enough. Instead, he shows off the tin, taking it out from its hiding place under his jacket.

“Of course.” Alex sighs, a small smile on his lips. His grip on the younger boy’s shoulder loosens and he leans forward, touching their foreheads together. “I’m sorry I yelled, you just really scared me.” Alex’s voice is barely above a whisper, the soft sound barely audible above the roar of the waves.

Tommy finds himself overwhelmed by how good this feels. He’s heard stories before, of course, that contact with your soulmate can bring inconceivable comfort, but experiencing it is a whole other thing. It’s like the world has melted away, the war raging around them merely an echo of a bad dream.

But still, there’s something not quite right...

“Do you think we’ll ever find ‘em?” Alex asks quietly.

Tommy blinks in confusion, not understanding the question.

“Our third. Do you think we still have a chance?”

Tommy looks behind him, towards the burning remains of Dunkirk. “... Yeah.” He looks into Alex's eyes again, making sure his soulmate is listening to him. “We’ll find them, I promise.”

Alex nods and closes his eyes, relieved. They stay like this for a few more minutes, basking in each other presence, but eventually, Tommy’s hunger gets too much.

He steps back, giving Alex an apologetic smile, but the other boy doesn’t seem to mind, simply walking back towards their previous sitting spot. Gibson is sat back down already, having given them privacy while they shared their little moment. Tommy sits down right in front of him and pulls out a knife from his belt, trying to open the can.

It’s irritating work, and he almost throws it in frustration a few times, but finally, the top gives, and Tommy can only look in awe at the content of the tin. He dips his finger in and licks the syrup that's left on it. He smiles wide as he lifts his head up, finding Gibson’s eyes first. “Peaches!”

Gibson goes pale as a ghost and Tommy is about to ask him what's wrong when Alex leans over him, grabbing one of the halved peaches and eating it in one bite.

“Alex!” Tommy hisses indignantly.

“What?” The boy answers through a mouthful of peach, syrup dribbling down his chin.

Tommy shakes his head silently and counts the halves, making sure they have enough to share equally. They each get four pieces and they eat in silence, too overwhelmed by the taste of something so sweet when they haven't had a proper meal in so long. 

Tommy looks down into the tin, there's still one half left, floating alone in the syrup.

“There's one left.” He informs his companions. 

Alex answers him without hesitation. “Take it.”

Tommy looks at Gibson and the other boy simply shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand towards him. 

Tommy tries his best to hide his smile as he takes the last peach, making sure he takes his time to savor it. He can almost say he’s happy.

There’s a group of Highlanders walking in loose formation down the beach, away from the waiting soldiers. Alex is the first one to notice them, getting up and licking the peach syrup from his fingers as he does.

“Hey! Highlanders!” He waves and they slow their steps, recognizing him as one of their own. “What’s that way?”

“A boat.” One of the men points further down the beach and there, about a mile away from them, is an old fishing trawler, stranded by the tide. 

“She’s grounded.”

Another soldier answers him. “Not when the tide comes in, she isn’t.”

Tommy and Gibson get on their feet quickly and Alex looks back at them, nodding. They follow the Highlanders towards the boat, watching the sand dunes closely as they walk. The other soldiers decide it’s best to hide in the abandoned ship and wait until the high tide takes them away. The three boys follow them, Tommy looking over the horizon one last time before he climbs down into the dark hull.

They’ve been here a while, soldiers sleeping or lightly chatting, when Alex speaks. “Someone should go see if the water’s coming in.”

His request is met with silence and he rolls his eyes, huffing. Tommy gets up and Alex whips around to look at him, shaking his head. “No, wait-”

But Tommy doesn’t listen as he opens the hatch and climbs up the ladder to peer over the railing. The boat is barely in an inch of water. Tommy climbs down and sighs. “Barely come in at all.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Alex says, raking a hand through his hair. Tommy puts a reassuring hand on his back, and the other boy practically melts into his touch. There’s nothing else to do but wait, so Tommy steers his soulmate towards where Gibson is sitting and they both lean down next him, shoulders touching.

Tommy doesn’t notice he fell asleep until he’s woken up by a gunshot. Everyone stares at the bullet hole in the hull, not making a sound. Then a second shot, followed closely by a third.

The man closer to the holes shuffle away as fast as they can and two Highlanders grab their rifles, heading towards the ladder.

“No!” Tommy hisses, waving the men down. “Then they’ll know we’re in here.”

One of the Highlanders turns towards him, angry. “Why else are they shooting at us?!”

Tommy points towards the bullet holes. “Look at the grouping…” Everyone turns to look, realization slowly dawning. “Target practice.”

Water starts pouring from the lowest holes and one of the Highlanders goes to plug it when-

Bang! Another shot, straight into the man’s face. The man screams, and two of his comrades pull him back, holding him down and trying to silence him. Water is flowing in faster by the second.

“We have to plug it!” Alex points to the holes, urgency in his voice.

“After you, mate!” One of the Highlanders answers him, not managing to hide his panic.

The water is up to their ankles now, and rising fast. “Weight…” Alex thinks aloud. “We need to lose some weight!”

There’s silence for a moment, everyone looking at each other, not daring to move. Then one of the Highlanders steps forwards and points towards Tommy and Gibson. “These two. They’re not one of ours.”

“Absolutely not!” Alex says, grabbing Tommy by the wrist and placing himself in front of him.

“If you don’t wanna leave them, feel free to step off too!” The Highlanders are advancing towards them slowly, and Alex is starting to panic.

“This one!” Alex shouts, pointing to Gibson. “He can leave.”

Tommy frees his wrist from his soulmate’s hold roughly, anger in his eyes. “What? No, don’t be daft.”

“He’s a German spy.” Alex points a threatening finger at Gibson. He turns around and snatches the rifle from one of the other soldiers, pointing it in Gibson’s face. “He’s bloody Jerry. You might not’ve noticed that he hasn’t said a word, but I have. He doesn’t speak English-”

“Alex!” The anger in Tommy’s voice is enough to make the other boy pause, the rifle lowering slightly. Unfortunately for him, the effect isn’t the same for the other soldiers. The other men are getting more and more riled up, calling Gibson filthy kraut and demanding he gets off the boat.

“He’s not a spy!” Tommy pleads, turning to look at Gibson. “Just tell them.”

“Yeah, tell us!” One of the Highlander shouts, waving his gun in Gibson’s face, the man staying silent as ever.

“Tell them, for God’s sake!” Panic is starting to reach Tommy’s voice and Alex takes a step forward out of instinct, wanting to comfort his soulmate.

It’s too much. The men yelling, the two guns in his face, the desperate look in Tommy’s eyes… 

Gibson cracks, terrified eyes falling on Alex. “Français! Je suis Français!”

Alex stops abruptly, like all the air has been punched out of him. All the color drains from his already pale face and his eyes go wide. The gun slips from his grip, hitting the water with a loud noise he doesn't acknowledge. The other men behind him are talking, yelling, but he doesn’t hear them over the ringing in his ears. All he can do is stare at Gibson, hand reflectively touching his left wrist. Gibson’s eyes are still wild in fear, but it’s a different one now, there’s something more primal in them now, a pain that reaches his soul.

Tommy can only look helplessly at his two companions. The men behind them are getting more and more angry, but it’s like they don’t care, lost in each other eyes. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, still reeling from the fact that Gibson is French. 

And then the curly-haired boy locks eyes with him and speaks. “Je suis désolé.”

Tommy feels like the world just stopped spinning. His hand reaches out across the ladder instinctively, and he holds the other boy’s arm so tight it must be painful. He looks at Alex then, the fight all but gone from his soulmate. They had their third all along, and Alex had almost shot him in the face.

Their moment is quickly ruined by a burst of machine-gun fire. Everyone ducks, afraid of ricochets and the boat starts to sway, the high tide starting to take it offshore. More bullets hit the hull as the ship moves, the men inside scrambling desperately to get away from the line of fire.

The water is up to their knees now and Alex looks around desperately for a solution. “We have to plug the holes!”

This time, the men on the boat react quickly, rushing to stop the water with anything they can find. But the makeshift plugs pop out every few seconds, and the soldiers are forced to use their own bodies to stop the sprays, the water almost up to their neck already.

One by one, the soldiers start to abandon ship in a panic, the water too high for them to even stand anymore. One of the Highlanders hits Tommy in the chest as he escapes, making the younger man lose his balance and fall under the water. He comes back up quickly, disoriented, the water so high he can barely breathe. He can’t hear anything over the rushing of the waves and, as he looks around desperately, he notices that he’s alone in the hull. He swims out as fast as he can, trying to put as much distance as he can between him and the sinking ship. There are Highlanders floating all around him, trying to reach a destroyer that’s not too far away from them. It takes him a second too long to notice that Alex and Gibson are nowhere to bee seen.

Alex can barely breathe anymore, the water reaching up to his nose. He looks around and, despite the darkness in the flooded hull, he sees that Gibson is the only person left with him. He grabs the other man by the shoulder to get his attention. “We have to go!”

Without waiting for an answer, he dives, swimming towards the exit. It’s a lot farther than he expected, the current fighting with his every movement. He breaches the surface with a gasp, his lungs burning and his eyes sting from the salt in them.

There’s a figure swimming towards him and he has to blink a few times to realizes that it’s Tommy. The younger boy stops as he sees him, smiling in relief and Alex can’t help but smile back. Despite their horrible circumstances, they have each other, and that’s all that matters. But then Tommy’s smile falls as he looks behind him, towards the sinking boat. Alex turns around and feels his heart stop beating.

Gibson isn’t behind him.

He doesn’t think before he dives back down, barely hearing Tommy scream something as he does. The water is dark and he can barely see the entrance of the hull, but still, he swims frantically towards it, the water seeming to try to push him away with every stroke. His lungs are already starting to burn by the time he finally grabs the ladder. He sees a hand floating in the darkness of the hull and he grabs it, pulling with all his might.

Nothing happens.

He pulls again, so hard he’s afraid he might dislocate Gibson’s shoulder, but finally, something gives. He starts to kick hopelessly towards the surface, black spots dancing in his vision. 

Tommy meets them halfway into the water. He grabs Gibson’s other arm and pushes them towards the surface as fast as he can. They break the surface in a collective gasp, Gibson unconscious between them.

The water around them is black and sticky, and Tommy realizes with dread that they’re swimming in oil. He looks towards the destroyer and sees that the ship is slowly starting to sink, men throwing themselves into the water.

“There!” Alex rasps, pointing towards what looks like a civilian boat. Tommy nods and they start to swim towards it, trying to keep Gibson’s head above the oily water. A Stuka flies over them, dropping more bombs onto the destroyer. Neither Tommy or Alex dare to look back, focusing on reaching the small ship. A man is shouting inside of it and the engine revs to life, ready to take them away.

“Wait!” Tommy yells, desperation lacing his voice. A young man with black hair pears above the edge of the boat and his pale blue eyes go wide as he sees them. He turns around to say something and is quickly joined by a blond-haired boy. 

Alex and Tommy give them Gibson first, the two young men look hesitant at first, but they haul his body onto the deck nonetheless. Next up is Alex, whose body is too exhausted to help the boys as they pull him up. Tommy barely has time to grab the blond-haired man’s hand before a plane hits the water and ignites the oil in a big ball of flames. The boat shoots off then, dragging him along. The water pushes down on him relentlessly and it takes a considerable effort from the two boys, helped by Alex, to bring him up. He lands hard on the deck, back first, and cough up oily water.

Alex is on Gibson the second Tommy hits the deck. He’s never been the best at first aid, but he remembers the basics of doing a cardiac massage. He presses as hard as he can on Gibson’s chest, his arms trembling from the effort.

Nothing’s happening.

Alex can feel tears starting to blur his vision, desperation making his movements uncoordinated and clumsy. There’s a hand on his shoulder and he spares a glance at the person it belongs to, a blond man in a pilot uniform.

“Mate…” The man’s Scottish accent is thick but Alex shakes his head, refusing to listen to whatever the man wants to say.

“He’s fine.” He keeps pressing. “He’s gonna be okay.” Two breaths. “You can’t leave us ya bastard!”

The blond pilot pushes him away and Alex tries to claw at him, screaming as Tommy holds him back with all his strength. He calms down slightly when he sees that the man is simply taking his spot, not giving up on Gibson.

The pilot’s movements are much more controlled, precise. The silence on the boat is deafening, the other soldiers on the deck have all turned their eyes away now, giving them a semblance of privacy. The blond man is starting to slow and Alex doesn’t bother to try and stop the tears that fall from his eyes, Tommy holding him impossibly tighter.

And then Gibson’s eyes snap open and he starts throwing up water. The blond pilot is quick to react, turning him on his side, rubbing his back as he whispers encouraging words. The Frenchman breaths are raspy and wet and he coughs on ever exhale, but he’s alive.

Alex practically throws himself on him, Tommy following close behind. They stay like this, crying and tangled in each other, until the sun is low on the horizon, painting everything around them in gold.

Alex and Gibson are asleep when they pass by the white cliffs of Dover. Tommy almost cries in relief when he sees them. He’s home, finally.

They reach the harbor at nightfall. Tommy helps Gibson get on his feet, the older boy standing on unsteady legs. Alex walks a few steps in front of them, opening their path as they are shepherded in lines by military men. They’re being herded towards a train and, as they near it, they pass by an elderly man handing them blankets.

“Well done, lads... well done, lads…” The man is looking down at their hands, not meeting their eyes.

“All we did is survive.” Alex can’t help the disbelief in his voice. They didn’t do anything, had to be saved by the very country they were trying to help.

“That’s enough.” The man says simply, continuing to hand blankets to the other soldiers.

It takes a second for Alex to move after that. He looks behind him at Tommy and Gibson. All they did was survive and that’s all he could have ever asked of them. He feels tears prickle the corner of his eyes as he boards the train.

He slumps into the first available seat he sees, Tommy and Gibson doing the same on the seat in front of him. Alex can’t blame the Frenchman for not sitting next to him, but still, there’s a small part of him that’s hurt at being left alone by the other two. He shakes his head, pushing the thought as far from his mind as he can. “Gibson?”

No answer, the boy's eyes stay closed. Tommy shoves him lightly with his shoulder and the boy blinks awake, looking at Alex in confusion.

“Gibson I’m-”

The other boy interrupts him by shaking his head no and pointing to himself. “Philippe.” His voice is so raspy it makes his companions wince.

“Philippe… I wanted to say that-” Alex takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “I’m sorry. About what happened on the boat. I shouldn't have reacted that way, I was just… I’m sorry.”

Tommy and Philippe are asleep before Alex has even finished his sentence. They're tangled in each other, bodies fitting together like two perfect pieces of a puzzle. And as Alex watches them, he can't help but be afraid that his own jagged edges are going to ruin this beautiful harmony. He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on the tough as he settles more comfortably on the bench, sleep overtaking him in a matter of seconds.

Sunlight is what wakes Tommy up, much later. The train comes to a stop and Alex opens his eyes as well, looking disoriented. There are two young boys playing outside and Alex opens the window, sticking his head outside. “Hey! Where are we?!”

The kid closest to them stops what he’s doing, looking at Alex quizzically. He has no doubt he looks crazy, still coated in oil. “Siding. You’ll put in in a minute-”

“What station?” Alex interrupts.

The boy looks even more curious now, head tilted. “Woking.”

Alex spots stacks of newspapers by the kid’s feet and he point towards them. “Grab me one of these, will ya?”

The boy hesitates for a second, but he does as he’s asked, giving him the newspaper at the top of his pile.

Alex only manages to read the headline before he tosses it on the table. Tommy takes it wordlessly, he knows the other boy still think of their military failure in France as something he needs to shoulder on his own.

“Wars are not won by evacuations.” Tommy reads softly, mindful not to wake a still sleeping Philippe. Alex visibly flinches at his words. 

The train starts to move slowly, pulling into the station. The platforms are crowded with civilians and Alex slinks down into his seat, turning away from the window. Someone starts to knock on their window and both boys try their best to ignore it.

“But there was a victory inside this deliverance which should be noted...”

Alex can’t take it anymore and he turns, shocked to see an older man grinning at them, holding two bottles of beer.

“Our thankfulness at the escape of our army -” 

Alex opens the window slightly and takes the bottles, nodding his thanks to the man. He keeps one and slides the other towards Tommy and Philippe, but he doubts either of them will take it.

“- Must not blind us to the fact that what has happened in France... is a colossal military disaster...”

Alex takes a large swig of his beer, hoping it’ll bring down the lump in his throat.

“And we must expect another blow to be struck almost immediately...”

The train comes to its final stop. Some soldiers are quick to spring to their feet, other lingers in their seats.

“We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France...”

Alex can’t help but look at Philippe. He looks incredibly young in his sleep, not a single trace of fear on his oil-covered face.

“We shall fight on the seas and oceans. We shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air...”

Alex takes another swig of his beer. He doesn’t think he can fight again. Not anymore…

“We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds...”

They think of beaches littered with bodies, of men so desperate to leave that they are willing to kill their own.

“We shall fight in the fields and the streets. We shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender… And even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this island were subjugated and starving… Then our empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British fleet, would carry on the struggle...” 

Tommy stops for a moment and looks up at Alex. The other boy is crying, but he knows it’s not because of the speech.

“Until, in God’s good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old…”

They are quiet then. The train is almost empty, but they don’t attempt to get up.

Finally, Alex wipes at his eyes, hiding any traces of his tears. “My family has a farmhouse, further up north from Glasgow. We haven't gone in ages, not since mum-” He cuts himself off, blinking rapidly. “It would be a good place to lay low. No one’s gonna look for us there.”

Tommy looks at Philippe, still asleep despite the commotion, looking more peaceful than he's ever seen him. “Yeah. That'd be a good idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Past me was Boo Boo the Fool.  
> I've completely lost control of this fic but let's be honest, is anyone surprised anymore?

Tommy has to nudge Philippe awake so they can get off the train. The boy tries to sit up, still half-asleep, a small noise of confusion escaping his lips. Alex helps him stand up, making sure he’s steady on his feet.

They step out onto the platform, trying to weave their way through the large crowd of cheering soldiers and civilians. Alex manages to find a train that's leaving for Glasgow soon and they hop on, finding seats and mirroring their previous position.

The ride takes almost a full day and they sleep through most of it, still bone-weary from their journey home. The sun is starting to set once they step out of the train, into a station in a little town a few hours away from Glasgow.

They are the only ones who get off there and there’s no one waiting to embark, the station eerily quiet. They leave without a word, huddling close even if there’s no need to do so anymore. Tommy suggests trying to find some food in town, but Alex waves him off, reassuring him that they will have enough for the night.

They have to walk for almost an hour before they reach the farmhouse, the building standing alone in a sea of wheat fields. In front of the house, a large apple tree is blooming, promising a bountiful harvest in the fall.

“Wait here.” Alex tells them once they reach the front door. The two boys wait patiently as Alex disappears behind the house, searching for the keys he knows his father hid somewhere. It takes him a few minutes, but finally he finds them under a rock in the garden, half-buried in the dirt. He jogs back around the house, jiggling the keys proudly. 

There’s no real decorations inside, only the basic furniture in each room, everything covered in a thick layer of dust. Aside from that the house is clean, everything is in order.

The first thing Tommy does once he’s inside is heading towards the kitchen. He starts by testing the sink and is pleasantly surprised when clean water starts to pour from the faucet. He doesn't bother to try searching for a glass as he dumps his head under the stream, drinking greedily.

When he comes back up, Alex is next to him, a glass in hands. Tommy smiles sheepishly as he let the older boy have access to the sink and goes rummaging through the cupboards in search of food.

He manages to find three cans of beans, some rice and a few bags of teas. It doesn't make the best meal they’ve ever had, but it certainly isn’t the worst. They eat quietly, the only sound in the kitchen the scratching of forks against plates. They have so much to say, and yet none of them know where to even begin.

“There’s two bedrooms upstairs.” Alex breaks the silence once they're cleaning up. “And the couch is big enough to sleep on.”

Tommy doesn’t look up from the dishes he’s washing as he speaks. “I’ve been sleeping on a beach for a week. If you think I’ll settle for a sofa when there’s a perfectly fine bed available, you’re out of your goddamn mind.”

“Fine.” Alex says as he rolls his eyes. “Philippe you take the couch.”

The Frenchman looks at them at the mention of his name, taking a moment to process the question. He looks at Alex and shrugs, then goes back to drying the dishes quietly.

“Well, that’s settled then…”

Once they’re done, Tommy heads for the stairs, wanting nothing more but to sleep. He stops when Alex puts a hand on his shoulder, one of his eyebrows raised comically. “We should… probably wash up first.” 

Tommy looks down at himself, at his oil-stained uniform and he has no doubt it must be coating every inch of his body. When he looks back up, Alex’s jacket is on the floor and he’s in the middle of taking his shirt off. He watches with wide eyes as the shirt comes off completely and gets thrown on the ground next to the jacket.

“What?” Alex frowns at him like he’s the one getting naked in the middle of the kitchen. “I dunno about you, but I can’t wait to be out of this fucking uniform.”

Philippe follows his example soon after, more than relieved to finally get rid of a dead man’s clothes. Tommy keeps his eyes down as he strips, not daring to look at the other boys. He’s got one leg out of his pants when he gets hit in the face by a wet rag. His head snaps up, startled, towards the direction it came from.

Alex is standing by the counter, wearing nothing but his boxers, eyes wide and body completely frozen. They both stare at each other in shock, the water draining in the sink the only sound in the kitchen.

And then Philippe snorts. Both boys turn their heads towards him, not quite believing what they just heard. This only makes the french boy laugh harder, trying desperately to hide the blush that’s creeping on his cheeks with his hands.

Alex grins as he turns the faucet on and wets another rag. He throws it at Philippe with all his strength, hitting him in the chest, the Frenchman making a noise of complete indignation as it does. He hurls it back at Alex, who’s not fast enough to dodge it and gets hit in the shoulder.

Tommy doesn’t know when this got so out of hands. He’s crouching behind the overturned kitchen table, clutching three wet towels to his chest. On the other side of the room, Alex is standing behind a barrier made of chairs, using an old saucepan as a helmet. And frankly he has no idea where Philippe is.

“Give up while you still can lad, this won’t end well for you and ya know it!”

“Never! I shall end the tyranny of king Alexander's reign!”

Alex cackles maniacally, waving a wooden spoon around. “I’d like to see you try, peasant boy!”

There’s a thumping noise behind him, and Tommy barely has time to turn around before Philippe tackles him. He yelps as the other boy grabs him by the hips and hoists him up on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“A l’attaque!” Philippe yells as he runs across the kitchen and jumps over the chair barricade. Except he doesn’t quite make it, and he sends the two of them tumbling down, straight into Alex. The other boy yells as they land on him, the three of them hitting the floor with a loud bang.

There’s a second of shocked silence, none of them really sure how this all happened, and then they all burst into laughter simultaneously, slowly starting to get off of each other.

Philippe is the first one on his feet, offering Tommy a hand to help him get up. He helps Alex up after and then he steps back, arms crossed tightly over his chest and cheeks bright red. 

“Je suis, uhm… I am...” He looks pointedly at the ground as he speaks. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Alex says as he steps forwards, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m the one who started it.”

“And I certainly didn’t help.” Tommy pipes up.

Philippe looks back up at them and nods, a shy smile on his face. He meets Alex’s eyes and frowns a bit, looking slightly worried. “Good?”

It takes Alex a moment to understand what the other is asking, but once he does, he shakes his head, smiling warmly. “Oh, yeah! I’m okay, the saucepan absorbed most of the shock I think.”

Philippe nods, satisfied with the answer and turns towards Tommy. “Good?”

“I’m fine. Bloody tired though.” He punctuates the end of his sentence with a yawn, as if to prove his point.

They clean up the kitchen as best as they can, Alex grabbing their dirty uniforms and throwing them outside with more force than necessary. He heads for the stairs then, Tommy following close behind. He stops on the first step, turning towards Philippe who’s still tidying up in the kitchen. “Bathroom’s upstairs if ya need to take a wee.”

Philippe nods, clearly not having understood what Alex said, and he leaves to get himself settled on the couch.

Alex climbs the rest of the stairs, Tommy on his heels. He shows him around the top floor briefly, simply pointing to the doors. “Bathroom’s on the right. First door on the left is mine, second one’s yours.”

Tommy nods and Alex gives him a quick smile before shutting himself in his room.

The guest bedroom is incredibly small, two single beds and a small dresser taking all the space up. As he settles in one of the beds, he tries not to think of a younger and softer Alex sleeping here, his heart not yet torn by the war.

Tommy can’t sleep.

Every time he closes his eyes, he’s on a beach in France, the sound of Stuka sirens ringing in his ears. Finally, he can’t take it anymore and throws the covers off himself, swiftly getting up. He opens the bedroom door carefully, trying to stay as quiet as he can, and steps into the hallway. He’s barely taken a step when a noise coming from the stairwells makes him freeze. He turns around slowly and is surprised to find Philippe climbing up the stairs, an old blanket draped on his shoulder. The older boy gives him a sheepish grin as he reaches the hallway, and Tommy can’t help but smile back.

Philippe walks over to Alex’s door and opens it carefully, motioning for Tommy to get inside. The younger boy obliges, stepping into the dark room. It’s as empty as the rest of the house, the large bed taking most of the space. The moonlight coming through the window is just bright enough for him to see Alex’s sleeping form, the boy sprawled in the middle of the mattress.

Philippe walks in behind him and gently closes the door. They both head to one side of the bed and they climb on, mindful not to wake Alex who’s snoring lightly between them. Tommy falls asleep with a smile on his face, feeling warmer than he’s ever been in his life.

Alex wakes up slowly, the sun shining bright on his face. He’s laying on his back, his left arm gone completely numb and his head resting on something that’s too hard to be his pillow. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking in the harsh morning light.

The reason he can’t feel his left arm is because Tommy is using it as a pillow, mouth slightly open as he drools on his bicep. Alex frowns but does nothing to move the younger boy, instead he turns his head slightly and his heart stops when he notices that was he’s been using as a pillow is actually Philippe’s chest. The Frenchman has his arm draped over his hips, his hand laying on Tommy’s thigh.

It feels so good, so right, that Alex can feel tears well up in his eyes. He tries his best to stay still, barely even daring to breathe in fear of ruining this peace. It’s been quiet for a few minutes when suddenly Tommy wakes up with a sharp inhale of breath, heads snapping up to look around wildly. His eyes land on Alex and he relaxes, laying back down.

“Hi.” The younger boy’s voice is still groggy with sleep, his eyes already starting to close again.

Alex can’t help but smile as he answers. “Mornin’.” 

He almost yelps when he gets dragged backward, Philippe practically holding him like a teddy bear. He shushes him and lays his head on top of his hair, still half-asleep.

And Alex realizes that they need to move now or this is going to become very awkward. “We, uh, should probably get up soon.”

Philippe hums, but he doesn't move from his spot, not even opening his eyes.

“I dunno if we have anything for breakfast…”

That gets a reaction out of Tommy. The younger boy lifts his head up, fluffy hair sticking everywhere. “I’ll go see if I can find something.”

He gets up, stretching as he does, and goes rummaging through the dresser that sits on the other side of the room. He finds an old shirt and a pair of brown shorts, both too big for him. He puts them on quickly, not waiting for the other boy as he leaves the room, going down the stairs two at a time.

Philippe lets him go then, getting up as well, and Allex is incredibly grateful for the blanket that’s still up to his stomach. Philippe pulls a pair of black trousers and an old button-down from the dresser. The shirt is a bit too small for him, be he doesn’t seem to mind, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. “See you for, uhm, déjeuner?”

Alex smiles and nods. “See ya for breakfast.”

Philippe smiles back, blushing slightly. He leaves, closing the door behind him, and Alex is left alone. The bed feels cold suddenly, the room too silent. He throws the blanket on the other side of the bed and gets dressed, finding an old pair of shorts and a sweater he’s never seen his dad wear.

Once he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he sees Philippe sitting at the kitchen table, an open tin of biscuit in front of him. Tommy is looking through the cupboards, almost climbing into them to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. Alex rolls his eyes as he goes to sit, looking at the tin in disdain. “So… I take it the couch wasn’t that great?”

Philippe’s only answer is to shrug, picking up a biscuit and looking at it personally offended him.

“Yes!” Tommy exclaims suddenly, crawling out of the cupboards he was foraging in, holding a half-empty jar of strawberry jam. He puts it on the kitchen table, smiling proudly.

“Do we have any bread?” Alex immediately feels bad for asking, the smile on Tommy’s lips dropping at his words. 

“No...” Tommy shrugs and goes to fetch a spoon. He grabs the jar and starts eating jam by the spoonful like it’s the most normal thing to do. Philippe stares at him, nose scrunched in clear disgust as he munches on a stale biscuit.

Alex can’t help but smile at the scene, it feels incredibly domestic, so far removed from what was happening to them not even two days ago. 

Suddenly he remembers something his father had shown him, a long time ago. He gets up, not seeing the curious glances the other boys give him, and heads towards the living room. He crouches in front of the fireplace and sticks his hand in the firebox, feeling around the walls. It takes him a moment, but he finally manages to find what he’s looking for. He pulls a metal box from where it was carefully hidden between two bricks, his hand covered in soot. He opens the small case delicately and can’t help but giggle once he sees its content. It’s an envelope, and inside that envelope is almost a hundred pound.

He puts the money in his pockets and staches the box back in it’s hiding place. He walks back into the kitchen with a small skip to his step, going to wash his hands in the sink. “I’m gonna go into town, see if I can maybe find a job. Will you both be alright on your own for a while.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, licking jam off his fingers. “We’re not children, I think we can manage.”

“Sure.” Alex snorts and heads outside, walking through the garden and towards the shed. The small wooden building is filled with junk, the dust so thick it makes Alex sneeze as soon as he steps inside. He finds his dad’s bike amongst all the clutter, it’s a bit rusty and definitely needs to be oiled, but it beats walking all the way to town. He also finds an old wooden wagon he used to play with as a kid and ties it to the end of the bike.

The ride to town takes him less than thirty minutes, a soft wind accompanying him as he pedals through the fields. The streets are a lot more busy this morning, children running around and women shopping in small groups.

The first thing he does is look for a job. He goes into every shop, asking if they need help. He finds his match at the bakery, the old woman at the counter looking him up and down and smiling. “For sure, yeah! We ladies are in need of some strong arms to lift them bag o’ floor around. It won’t pay much, but it’s the best you’ll get here luv.”

“Fine by me. When do I start?”

The woman gives a short laugh and pats his arm. She explains the job and gives him a rough schedule before shooing him off, ordering him to enjoy his last day as a free man.

Alex can’t help but smile as he walks through town, feeling like he’s done something right for once. He buys plenty of food, making sure he grabs some bread and a fresh jar of strawberry jam. There’s an old farmer sitting next to a building near the edge of town, selling fresh produces. Alex buys a bunch of seeds from him, intent on utilizing the garden at the farmhouse as much as he can. He pays and, just as he’s about to leave, the old man grabs him by the arm. “Tell me kid, when was the last time you ate some real meat?”

Alex is confused for a moment, looking at the old man like he’s crazy, before he realizes that it’s been a really really long time since he ate anything that didn’t come from a can. The farmer must see the shift in his expression because he smiles, leaning towards him slightly. “I’ve got a deal for ya. It’ll cost you all you’ve got less, but you’re a smart lad, you know you won’t find these anywhere else.”

The man turns, reaching for a pile of wooden boxes behind him. He lifts a tarp off one of them, revealing three chicken squeezed together in a too small cage. Alex doesn’t even think as he hands him the rest of his money.

It’s only later, once he’s riding through the fields and towards the house, the chicken clucking behind him, that he realizes that might not have been the best decision to make. The old farmer was undoubtedly selling them because they can’t lay eggs anymore, making them pretty much useless. But Alex doesn’t care much, already thinking of the many meals he could make with them.

Once he reaches the house, he can see Tommy and Philippe outside, tending to the garden. They wave once they see him and he goes to park his bike next to them, excited to show them his purchases. He tells them about the job at the bakery as they unpack the little wagon. The boys are thrilled, Tommy congratulating him and Philippe nodding along enthusiastically. 

Alex grabs the food and heads inside, not used to so much praise for such a small success. He’s barely got his blush under control when Tommy walks in the kitchen a few minutes later, holding some cans he forgot in his hasty retreat. “This is amazing Alex! With your job at the bakery and the eggs from the chicken, we’ll be able to bake things, maybe even make apple pies once the tree in the front yard starts making fruits.”

Alex hums as he places another inside the cupboard. “The chicken don’t lay eggs, I bought them for eating.”

Next to him, Tommy freezes, looking at him with wide eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

Alex stops what he’s doing, frowning. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Tommy shakes his head, pointing towards the back door. “You’ve gotta go tell Philippe, he’s still outside.”

Alex shrugs, not understanding what the problem is. Just as Tommy said he would, he finds Philippe in the garden, standing next to the shed. His back is to him and he’s saying something in French that Alex can’t understand.

He can do this.

Philippe turns around and he's holding one of the chicken in his arms, the fat brown one. “Édith!” He says enthusiastically as he points to the hen, a broad smile on his face.

He can't do this.

“Philippe, the chicken, we… they can't lay eggs…”

The other boy frowns, visibly trying to process his words. “They are not… good? The chicken?”

“No, they’re not good.” Alex shakes his head, looking anywhere but at the boy in front of him. “They’re useless, I only bought them so we could ki-” He makes the mistake of looking into Philippe’s eyes then, the other boy looking absolutely distraught. “Keep them. I bought ‘em so we could keep them, like pets.”

Philippe starts to smile again, though a bit more hesitantly now. “Yes?”

“My pleasure.” Alex waves his hand vaguely towards him. “Now go take care of them.”

He turns around and walks back towards the house, Tommy’s leaning on the doorway, trying to contain his giggles and failing miserably.

“Not!” Alex points an accusing finger towards the younger boy. “A single fucking word.”

Tommy’s answer is to laugh even harder, and Alex is sure that he must be redder than an overripe tomato at this point.

They spend the rest of the day making the house start to feel more like theirs, cleaning and moving things around. They sort through the all clothing they find, trying everything on. Almost everything is too big on Tommy, and Alex makes a mental note to buy him some suspenders the next time he goes into town.

They spend dinner chatting, slowly starting to open up to one another about their past. After they’re done cleaning up, the sun having long since set, the three of them head upstairs without a word, a silent agreement that they will all sleep in Alex’s bedroom. They lay down in the same position they woke up in this morning and, within minutes they’re all asleep.

Tommy wakes up to a throbbing pain in his right leg. There’s been something wrong with his knee ever since they came back from the beach. He’s been good at ignoring it for the last two days, barely even limping, but today is different. He takes his time getting off the bed, careful not to put too much weight on it while trying not to wake Alex and Philippe up. He succeeds, somehow, and wobbles his way outside the bedroom. 

The stairs are much worse. He holds the railing so tight his knuckles go white and he has to bite his lips to keep from screaming, every step he takes more painful than the last. When he finally reaches the bottom of the stairs he’s shaking, sweat coating his forehead. He limps his way to the kitchen, sitting down and laying his head on the table, praying to whoever will listen to him that this will pass.

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he’s woken up by someone putting a mug in front of him. His head snaps up to find Alex looking at him quizzically. “You alright?”

Tommy nods and grabs the mug of tea, drinking it with large gulps. Philippe and Alex get to work on making breakfast, the sound of clinking dishes the only thing breaking the silence in the room. They must know something’s not quite right with him, but Tommy is thankful that they don’t bring it up.

They eat their meal in awkward silence, Alex trying and failing to make small talk. The other boys get up to wash the dishes and Tommy knows he can’t sit there all day. He pushes his chair backward using the table and takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He gets up in one swift movement, putting most of his weight on his left leg. For a moment he thinks he’s alright, and he takes a step forward.

As soon as he puts his foot down, his right leg gives out, sending him tumbling to the floor with a yelp. Alex and Philippe are on him immediately, helping him sit up, eyes filled with worry.

Tears start to blur the edge of his vision and he squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to let them fall. He focuses on his breathing, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing pain in his leg.

“Tommy!” From the panic in Alex's voice, it’s not the first time he’s called his name.

The younger boy looks up, blinking the tears from his eyes.

“What’s going on luv?” The other boy's voice is rough, filled with worry. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I don’t-” Tommy has to swallow the lump in his throat. “I don’t know… My leg hurts.”

“Okay… Okay…” Alex looks around the kitchen, like a solution will simply appear in front of him. “Can you try and stand up?”

Tommy nods, taking a deep breath. He barely manages to lift himself off the ground by himself, Philippe has to hoist him up most of the way. Alex is starting to really freak out and he’s not very good at hiding it. Philippe looks away from Tommy to put a hand on his shoulder, making sure the other boy is looking him in the eyes. “Good?”

Alex doesn’t answer right away, he exhales loudly and nods his head once. “I’m good.”

They have to bring Tommy into town, see if they can find a doctor, or anyone who can help. They can’t bring Philippe with them, the risk of anyone hearing him speak still too great. The boy is dejected, but he does object the decision, understanding the risks. They can’t take the bike either, the poor old thing would probably crumble under their shared weight.

The only solution they find is for Alex to carry Tommy on his back. It’s not ideal, but Alex assures him that he’ll be alright, so he climbs on, helped by Philippe.

They’ve barely left the house when he finds himself lulled to sleep by the sound of birds in the trees and boots hitting dirt rhythmically.

Tommy wakes up once they reach the town, the sound of Alex’s voice bringing him back to awareness. The older boy is asking around for a doctor, a nurse, anything. The first few people he asks dismiss him, practically running away from him. Finally, an older woman answers them, pointing towards a house farther downtown. “Knock there and ask for mister Milton.”

Alex thanks her profusely and jogs up to the house, knocking on the door with a bit too much vigor. The man who answers the door is short, his salt and pepper hair is starting to bald. He looks at them over thick-rimmed glasses, not looking particularly impressed. “Yes?”

“Are you mister Milton?” Alex asks. The man nods, motioning him to go on. “We were told you could help us. My-” Alex hesitates, looking at Tommy over his shoulder. “My friend needs help.”

Mister Milton looks at them for a moment then sighs, rolling his eyes. “Come on in. Put your... friend on the couch.”

Alex does as he’s told, thanking the man as he walks in. The house is pristine, not a trace of dust or clutter anywhere. The man disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a chair, placing it next to the couch. He sits on it and sighs, looking at Tommy. “What’s wrong with you, lad?”

“It’s uhm, my right leg. I can’t put weight on it.”

The man hums, leaning himself towards his leg. “Couldn’t be more vague could ya.” He starts to feel Tommy’s ankle, applying pressure on specific points. “Tell me if something hurts.”

Tommy nods and stays as still as possible while the man continues his examination, gradually moving up his leg. Nothing happens until the man reaches the bottom of his knee, pain making his entire leg seize up.

“There!” Tommy says a bit louder than he needs to.

The man looks up at him, frowning. “Might just be a torn ligament- ” He presses somewhere else on his knee and Tommy screams, bolting upright. “Or not.”

The old man hums to himself, still frowning, as Tommy lays back down, his entire body shaking. “There’s not much I can do to help you lads. You need to go to a real hospital.”

Alex shakes his head, hospitals are too dangerous for them, they ask questions, questions that could send them back out into war. As much as he hates seeing Tommy in such pain, it’s something they simply can’t risk.

The old man looks between them, waiting for them to agree. When it becomes evident that they won’t, he sighs loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright then…” He turns towards Tommy, making sure the young boy is listening to him. “You’ll need to drink plenty o’ green tea, and eat as much protein as you can. You’ll have to be careful now, don’t throw yourself around like a mad person, your knee won’t take it. Do ya understand lad?”

Tommy nods once, back straight, and the man seems satisfied. He dismisses them with a harsh wave. “Now get out of my fucking house.”

Tommy insists on walking home, even if he has to lean on Alex the entire time, his limping slowing them down. When they finally reach the farmhouse he’s panting, drenched in sweat. Alex lets him go sit down at the kitchen table while he starts boiling some water.

They stay silent as the water boils, Tommy simply humming his thanks once Alex hands him his cup. He’s almost finished his tea when he notices something’s missing. “Where’s Philippe?”

Alex looks up with wide eyes, clearly having just noticed the frenchman absence too. “I’m sure he’s not far.” He gives a reassuring smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “He’ll be back soon enough.”

Tommy nods, but he can’t help the frown that falls on his face as he looks down at his cup. If Philippe had been worried about him, then surely he would have wanted to be there when they came back, to know what was wrong with him. Tommy shakes his head slightly, trying to push the thought out of his mind, tracing the words on his left wrist absentmindedly.

It’s only a few minutes later that the back door bursts open, Philippe walking in. He looks terrible, his hair sticking in all directions, a few leaves stuck in them. His clothes are stained with mud and his arms are covered in scratches, some of them deep enough that they’re bleeding. But he doesn’t seem to care about any of that, holding a bowl filled to the brim with strawberries and smiling brightly.

“Jesus!” Alex eclaims. “Are you alright!?”

Philippe gives him a thumbs up and then looks at Tommy, concern in his eyes. “Good?”

The younger boy can’t help but smile as he answers. “I will be.”

Philippe nods and puts the bowl on the table, smiling proudly. “For making jam!”

Tommy feels like an absolute idiot for having ever doubted Philippe. The boy had saved his life countless times and then he’d gone God knows where to pick strawberries simply because he knew he liked them and that they would cheer him up. Tommy has to hold back tears as he gets up, hugging Philippe so tight the other must barely be able to breathe. Philippe doesn't seem to mind though, simply holding tightly as well.

After what feels like forever, Tommy lets go and turns around, crushing Alex in a hug as well. The older boy seems surprised at first, but he recovers quickly, melting into the embrace. 

“All better now?” Alex asks after a while. 

Tommy pulls away, wiping his eyes as he nods. He feels slightly embarrassed, but the feeling quickly gets drowned out by how good he feels, the contact with his soulmates having put him at peace. “I’m ready to make some fucking jam.”

Alex snorts, shaking his head. “I bet you are. But first we gotta take care of that.” He says as he points to Philippe.

Alex goes over to the sink to wet a rag while Tommy starts plucking the leaves from Philippe’s hair. Alex comes back and grabs one of the Frenchman's arm, gently wiping the dirt and blood off them. Once he’s done Philippe offers him his other arm, smiling slightly.

“There! All good.” Alex smiles proudly as he looks at his handy work.

Tommy hums, tilting his head slightly “Not quite.”

Alex looks a him, eyebrows raised, clearly not understanding where he’s going with this.

Tommy smirk, feeling a blush rise on his cheeks. “We gotta kiss it better too.”

Alex smiles gleefully, nodding his head. “You’re right! How could I forget the most important step?”

They both take one of Philippe’s arm, the Frenchman looking at them curiously, and then start gently kissing each of the scratches. They take their time, making sure not to miss any, being particularly careful around the ones who are bleeding.

“Good?” Tommy asks once they’re done, making sure he catches Philippe’s eyes.

“Good.” Philipp nods, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes shining with tears.

“Now I dunno about you lads,” Alex exclaims, completely ruining the moment. “But I’m ready to make some fucking jam!”

It’s an absolute mess. There’s strawberry juice all over the counter and all over the floor, their clothes covered in the sticky pink liquid. They realize halfway through that they don’t have enough sugar for the amount of berry they have, and Alex has the brilliant idea to mix them with flour instead. Except it’s a terrible idea, and the saucepan he used is completely ruined, burned flour sticking to it no matter how many times he tries to wash it. 

It’s gotten dark outside by the time they end up with half a jar of what could pass for strawberry jam, the taste still a bit off. They clean up the kitchen as best as they can, finding strawberry bits all the way to the ceiling.

Alex is completely exhausted by the time they’re done, the events of the day finally starting to weigh on him. He throws the rag he was using to clean the counter into the sink and stretches, relaxing his tense muscles. “I’m bloody tired, thinking about calling it a night.”

Tommy’s only answer is to yawn, rubbing at his eyes as he does. Suddenly Philippe is behind the younger boy, grabbing him by the waist and hoisting him up. Tommy yelps once his feet leave the ground, holding onto Philippe’s shoulder for dear life.

“What are you doing!?” He yells indignantly, his cheeks quickly turning bright red. “I can walk!”

“I know.” Is all Philippe says as he starts to climb the stairs, Alex unable to control his giggles as he follows them.

Once they reach the bedroom, Philippe throws Tommy on the bed and dives right after him, barely giving the younger boy enough time to dodge out of the way. Just when he thinks he’s safe, Alex jumps in on the other side, effectively trapping him in the middle of the bed.

Philippe and Alex hold onto him so tight he doesn't think he could move even if he wanted to. They fall asleep tangled in each other, happier than they’ve ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Uhm I wanna write an epilogue that lasts until the end of the war  
> Also me: Writes 6k words for the first 3 days…  
> (Fun thing I discovered about myself while writing this: Philippe manhandling the other two is my greatest kink so... expect more of that I guess lmao)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pacing in this is weird as fuck please forgive me I was a bit tipsy while writing this and edited it at 4 am... so yes please also forgive any mistakes I'll try to look this over once I'm sober and have had some sleep lmao

Alex is the first one to wake up, the sun barely starting to shine on the horizon. He somehow manages to pry his arm from under Tommy’s body without waking the boy up, and he gets off the bed as carefully as he can. The house is incredibly silent as he walks down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

He starts to boil some water and starts making some jams sandwiches, cutting off the crust because Tommy had told him his mother used to make them that way. As he busies himself with breakfast, his thoughts start to wander towards his own mother, about his family he’s left behind to be here instead. He’s surprised to find that he doesn’t miss them as much as he thought he would. He feels more at home than he has in years, an indescribable feeling of belonging flowing through his veins whenever he’s with his soulmates.

Tommy and Philippe come downstairs as he’s pouring three cups of tea, smiling at himself. The younger boy is wobbling down the stairs, holding the ramp with one hand a Philippe with the other. Their progress is slow, but steady, and Alex can’t help but smile proudly once they reach the last step.

Tommy walks in the kitchen and sits at the table, smiling gratefully when Alex hands him his tea, holding the cup close to himself for warmth. He’s surprised when Philippe walks in the kitchen and heads straight to the back door, barely sparing them a glance as he leaves the house.

Alex blinks, holding two mugs and standing in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot. “What’s wrong with him?”

Tommy leans over the table and grabs a piece of jam sandwich. “He going to check on his little ladies.”

Alex sits down with a sigh, placing the second mug in front of Philippe’s usual spot. “His what now?”

“Little ladies.” Tommy answers with his mouth full. “That’s what he calls the chicken.”

“Oh God…” Alex closes his eyes and lets his head fall against the table. “We’re never eating those chicken, are we?”

Tommy takes another bite of his sandwich. “No.”

Philippe comes back inside a few minutes later, holding a small white hen close to his chest with one arm.

“Oh come on now!” Alex raises his hands in the air in exasperation. “You can’t start bringing them in the house too!”

Philippe frowns, stopping on his way to sit down. “Why not?”

Alex opens and closes his mouth like a fish, not knowing how to even begin explaining how wrong this is.

“What’s this one’s name?” Tommy asks, not helping the situation.

Philippe turns to look at him and beams. “Célestine! She likes the warmth.”

Tommy smiles back, leaning over the table to grab a jam sandwich and winking at Alex as he does. Alex's eyes go wide when he realizes the little bastard did this on purpose, and he leans back on his chair, crossing his arm and doing his best to look offended while trying to fight back a smile.

Tommy frowns, looking at the clock hanging on the wall. “Hey, Alex?” He wipes some jam from the corner of his mouth, looking at him with slight concern. “Isn’t your first shift at the bakery today?”

“Fuck!” Alex is out of his chair before Tommy’s even finished his sentence, taking one last swig of his tea before he runs upstairs. He changes out of his sleep clothes so fast he almost rips his shirt, and he goes down the stairs two at a time, tripping on the last step and almost ending up face-first on the floor.

He runs through the kitchen, stopping just long enough to give Tommy and Philippe each a quick kiss on the forehead, and then he's out the door, grabbing his bike and pedaling as fast as he can towards town.

He’s almost an hour late when he finally makes it to the bakery, but the woman who’s there doesn’t seem to mind. She pats him on the back and briefly explains the work he has to do before leaving him on his own for the rest of the day.

The hours pass by quickly, the tedious work keeping him busy, and by the time the bakery closes, the sun is already starting to set. When he reaches the house he’s greeted by the warm smell of a nice meal, though he can’t quite place what it is. He steps into the kitchen and finds his soulmates busy at work, Philippe cutting up vegetables and Tommy gently stirring a pot.

Philippe is the first one to notice him, smiling as he turns to greet him. “Good evening Alex.”

“Evening’. You guys seem busy?” 

Tommy turns around as well, smiling excitedly. “Philippe is teaching me how to make a casserole!”

“Cassoulet.” The older boy corrects him.

Tommy shrugs, focusing back on his stirring. “Same difference.”

Philippe shakes his head but doesn’t try to hide his smile as he goes back to his own task.

Alex gets busy setting the table while they finish preparing the food. A few minutes later they’re sitting down in front of bowls filled with what Alex can only describe as a vegetable stew. They talk about their day, about nonsensical things that keep them from thinking about everything that’s going on outside the walls of their small sanctuary.

And just like the night before, they fall asleep tangled in each other arms, with the knowledge that if nightmares wake them in the middle of the night, they won’t be alone.

It doesn’t take them long to settle into an easy rhythm after that. In the morning, they have breakfast together and then Alex leaves for work, leaving the two other boys alone for most of the day. Philippe spends most of his days outside, tending to the garden and taking care of the hens. Tommy spends most of his time reading, Alex bringing him a new book almost every day. He also finds great pleasure in learning how to cook, his favorite part of the day is when the three of them are sitting at the kitchen table, eating a meal he’s made, Philippe covered in mud and Alex smelling like flour.

He also particularly enjoys rainy days, when Philippe stays inside and they spend most of their time huddled on the couch. Tommy likes to read to him, speaking slowly and explaining the words he doesn’t understand. These kinds of days tend to end with the two of them making out for hours, leaving Tommy breathless and dizzy.

Before they know it, summer turns into fall, the weather growing colder and the apple tree in the front yard producing more fruits than they could ever need.

Tommy wakes up more giddy than usual, not like he’s ever in a particularly sour mood in the morning, but today feels different somehow. He’s up early, the sun barely starting to rise when he gets out of the bed. His soulmates are still sound asleep, Alex spread like a starfish in the middle of the bed, using Philippe’s chest as a pillow.

He steals a blanket from the bed and wraps himself in it, then heads downstairs with the intent of cooking breakfast. His knee doesn’t hurt as much today, and he manages to make it down the stairs by himself without feeling like he’s seconds away from passing out.

Even since the hens started laying again, he’d been in the habit of making eggs for breakfast. But today he decides against it, preparing some simple oatmeal instead.

Tommy can’t help but smile as he remembers how that particular morning went, almost a month ago now. Philippe had burst into the kitchen, looking like a madman, nearly giving him and Alex a heart attack. He’d showed them an egg, looking at it with as much pride as a father who looks at his newborn child, and from that day on Philippe’s little ladies had given them three eggs every morning.

Alex and Philippe come downstairs not too long after, and they eat breakfast in relative silence, finding comfort in the quiet morning.

Alex leaves for work and Philippe heads outside, leaving him alone in the house and, for the first time since they’ve been here, he finds himself bored out his mind. He tries to read a book, but he can barely read two sentences before he loses focus.

He sighs as he puts it back in the bookshelf, ultimately giving up. He stands dumbly in the living room for a while, looking around and hoping to find something to cure his boredom.

What ends up catching his eye isn’t inside the house, but outside. Through the living room window, he can see the lowest branches of the apple tree, weighed down by the many fruits they bear. An idea hits him suddenly, and he practically runs to the kitchen to grab a basket.

They don’t have a ladder and he doesn’t want to risk injuring his knee more by climbing the tree, so he settles for picking the apples on the lowest branches. He takes his time, choosing the best ones, and once he’s satisfied by the number in his basket, he heads back inside.

He’s going to bake an apple pie.

The only problem is that he doesn’t have a recipe, and he’s never learned how to bake a pie, but he won’t let that stop him.

When Alex comes home that night, the house smells like sugar and burnt flour. Philippe is sitting in the living room, looking at him with wide eyes and shaking his head. Alex frowns, not understanding what’s going on, until he steps into the kitchen.

It’s a horrible mess, floor everywhere, every single surface is covered with various bowls, plates and burned remains of pies. And in the middle of it all stands Tommy, whispering curses under his breath.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Tommy turns whirls around, and he looks more rolled up than he’s ever seen him. “Get out of the kitchen.”

“Wha-”

He barely gets a word in before Tommy is practically yelling at him. “I said out! I’m trying to bake and you’re distracting me!”

Alex can’t quite believe what’s happening. “Can… can I at least have some water?”

Tommy sigh, but he turns around and takes a glass from the cabinets and filling it with water.

“There.” He says as he shoves the glass in Alex’s hands. “Now off you go!”

He goes to sit next to Philippe, completely dumbfounded. “How long has he been like this?”

The other boy leans back on the sofa, looking dejected. “Long time.”

It’s almost two hours later when the swearing and bagging off pots and pans finally stops. Tommy comes out of the kitchen holding two plates, face flushed and eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, I think I got a bit too into it…”

Alex opens his mouth to agree, but Philippe elbows him hard in the ribs, effectively shutting him up. Tommy hands them a plate each, and Alex digs in, eager to finally taste the pie he’s been working on for so long.

It tastes absolutely horrible.

He manages to hide his noise of disgust with an awkward cough, swallowing his bite as quickly as he can.

“I hope it's not too bad. I didn’t have a recipe and we were probably missing half the ingredients you’d need to bake a real pie...” Tommy smiles sheepishly as he runs a hand on the back of his neck, clearly anxious to see their reaction.

Alex gives him his best smile. “It's bloody amazing luv.”

Tommy beams at his comment, turning to look at Philippe. “You think so too?”

The other boy can only nod in response, mouth still full of apple pie.

As much as Tommy tries to hide the blush that's creeping on his face, his soulmates can see it as clear as day. “Well!” He says a bit too high pitched. “I better go clean my mess.” He leaves the room without sparing them a glance, eyes focused on the floor.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Philippe spits his mouthful of pie back into his plate, making a small noise of distress. Next to him, Alex makes a soft gagging sound as he puts his own offending piece on the floor, grabbing his glass of water and chugging it in two large gulps.

They stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, then Alex snorts, leaning back on the sofa and putting his feet on Philippe’s thigh. “So… we agree that pie was fucking disgusting?”

Philippe nods with vigor, eyes wide.

“And we also agree to never, ever, tell him that?”

The other boy shakes his head with as much enthusiasm, no way he would ever admit it out loud.

Tommy makes more attempts at baking after that, each with their own varying degree of success. And each time Alex and Philippe are there to encourage him, even when it tastes so bad the chicken won’t eat the leftovers.

The beginning of October brings rain, and lots of it. On most days, Alex comes back from work soaking wet, in desperate need of a change of clothes.

Today feels worse somehow, the wind making the freezing water hit his face painful during his entire ride back home. He’d woken up feeling irritable, and every little thing had just seemed to set him off. This weather was just the icing on the cake.

He doesn’t bother to properly put away his bike once he reaches the house, instead leaving it laying haphazardly in the backyard. He slams the door on his way in, startling Tommy and Philippe who are sitting in the living room.

He doesn’t spare them a glance as he heads towards the stair, wanting nothing more but to get rid of his wet clothes.

“Alex?”

He doesn’t acknowledge Tommy, doesn’t even notice the look of concern his soulmates share as he climbs the stairs, leaving a trail of water behind him. He’s already got his coat off by the time he reaches the bathroom. He toes his shoes off and is in the middle of taking off his socks when the bathroom door opens, Philippe stepping inside with a frown.

Alex turns his back on him, doing his best to ignore him.

Philippe clearly has other plans. “Alex?”

He sighs forcefully, trying to convey the message that he wants to be left alone. “I’m sorry I slammed the door, but I’m really not in the fucking mood for a lecture.”

Philippe grabs him by the arm and spins him around, forcing him to look at him. “Good?”

Alex feels his anger boils at the other boy’s words. He’s cold, and he’s angry, and he just wants to be left alone for a fucking second. 

And then Philippe kisses him. It starts off slow, both unsure of how the other will react. Surprisingly enough, it’s Philippe who deepens the kiss first, hands going under Alex’s shirt to map his chest carefully. 

Alex, on his part, is completely frozen, barely even daring to breathe.

He kissed Tommy plenty of times before, had long make-out session that ended with the both of them rutting against each other like teenagers. And he’s not stupid, he knows Philippe and Tommy do things when he’s not home. And yes he’s kissed Philippe before, but it’s always been chaste, a small way to say good morning or good night.

This is entirely new, and it feels like heaven. He doesn’t dare to do much, afraid that initiating something will break whatever spell the French boy is under.

Alex breaks the kiss in confusion when he feels his belt being undone while Philippe’s hands are still clearly roaming his chest. The other boy lets him go and backs up slightly, letting him see what’s going on.

He’s surprised to see Tommy staring at him, cheeks flushed and grinning timidly. “Philippe and I have been practicing.” 

Before he can even ask what he’s talking about, the younger boys drop to his knees, pulls his cock free from his pants and swallow it in one swift movement. Alex makes a sound like a wounded animal, using all of his willpower not to wildly buck his hips into Tommy’s mouth. 

It’s clear that this is new to him, but what the younger boy lacks in skill, he eagerly makes up with in enthusiasm. He chokes and has to catch his breath a few times, but he always comes back more determined than before. He uses his hand to stroke where his mouth can’t reach and the softness of his palms makes Alex’s knees buckles.

Thankfully Philippe is there to hold him up, and he starts to kiss him relentlessly, swallowing his moans greedily. It’s too much all at once, pleasure and love more intense than he’s ever felt before. Philippe’s hands are back on his chest and he can feel the pressure in his gut getting stronger by the second. He tries to warn Tommy that he’s about to come, but the only sound that comes out of his mouth is a loud whine.

Tommy seems to have caught on nonetheless, head bobbing faster and hand twisting in a way that makes him see stars. Philippe back off slightly, using his mouth to nimble at his jaw instead.

“He is impatient, yes?” Philippe’s accent is thick, and it sends an uncontrollable shiver up Alex’s spine. He can only nod in answer, too dizzy with bliss to form words.

“I taught him how to do this.” One of Philippe’s hands leaves his chest and goes to pet Tommy’s hair in praise. The younger boy hums in satisfaction and the vibration of it on his cock make Alex dig his fingers into Philippe’s back to keep himself upright. “He made such pretty sounds, like you. Maybe next time he will let you fuck me while I suck him off.” 

Alex comes with a silent shout, mouth hanging open as his whole body shakes with pleasure. He looks down to see Tommy swallows with a grimace, his eyes scrunched shut at the salty taste, but when he opens them again he’s grinning, practically glowing with pride.

Alex feels a bit embarrassed for a moment, they couldn’t have been at it for more than fifteen minutes, but his soulmates don’t seem to care, looking as blissed out as he feels. They stay like this for a moment, basking in each other warmth, their loud panting the only sound in the room.

“Up you come, mon amour.” Philippe bends down to help Tommy up, supporting most of his weight while the younger boy slowly uncurls his right leg.

“What… was that for?” Alex asks once he regains control of his breathing.

Tommy shrugs, looking nonchalant. “I felt like it.”

Alex can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of him. “You’re a cheeky little bastard, you know that?”

Tommy winks, and Alex is torn between wanting to punch him or kiss him senseless.

He doesn’t get to do either because Philippe grabs him gently by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Good?”

Alex almost wants to cry. Instead, he nods, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “Yes... Thank you.”

Philippe smiles, warm and genuine, and gives him one last kiss before he leaves the bathroom, practically carrying Tommy along with him.

He’s left alone, half numb from bliss, his mind still not quite understanding what just happened. He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there, staring blankly at the wall in front of him, when Philippe comes back into the bathroom.

Alex looks at him curiously, not understanding why he’s here. “I’m a big boy you know? I can take a shower on my own.”

Philippe shakes his head. “No shower. Bed.”

Alex barely has time to open his mouth to ask him what the hell he means when he gets grabbed by the shoulders and legs, Philippe hoisting him up effortlessly. He yelps, hanging on to the frenchman for dear life as he starts to carry him towards the bedroom.

Tommy is waiting for them, already half asleep in the bed. Alex is dropped rather gracelessly next to him, Philippe climbing on right behind him and effectively trapping him in the middle.

Before his brain can catch up with what’s happening, Philippe drapes an arm around his waist and pulls Alex towards him, holding him tight.

He looks at Tommy for some kind of explanation.

The younger boy shrugs, laying his head on Alex’s shoulder. “Philippe likes to take naps after sex. Dunno about you, but I got nothing against it.”

Alex smiles and doesn’t say anything, feeling Philippe pull him impossibly tighter against him

No, he’s got nothing against this.

The end of October brings freezing nights and broken pipes. It’s Alex, one unfortunate morning, who discovers that the shower is broken. He promises he’ll find a way to fix this, but in the meantime they’re stuck taking baths.

All things considered, it could have been worst, it could have been the kitchen sink who broken, or even the toilet. Having to take baths for a few days isn’t the end of the world.

And yet Philippe can’t bring himself to do it.

He tries the first night, but the second he shuts the bathroom door, he feels like he can’t breathe, and an overwhelming sense of dread sends ice flowing in his veins. So he leaves, he goes to bed and pretends nothing happened.

The exact same thing happens on the second day.

On the third day, he can’t ignore it anymore. He’d been working in the garden all day, doing his best to get everything ready for the winter. He’s sweaty and covered in mud, and there’s no way Alex and Tommy will let him into the bed while he’s this dirty.

So he goes into the bathroom, closes the door, and fills the tub.

Philippe stands naked in the bathroom, the cold tiles sending a shiver down his spine. The bathtub is right in front of him, filled with clear water that’s barely steaming. He stares at it, only two steps away, and yet he can’t bring himself to move.

A drop of water falls from the faucet, hitting the water in the tub with a small splash that rings louder to him than any gunshot he’s ever heard. He flinches and closes his eyes tight, his whole body seizing up. He forces himself to take deep breaths, his chest shaking from how tense he is.

He opens his eyes slowly, blinking against the light. This is just a bath, it’s barely two feet deep, no chance of him getting stuck anywhere. He can do this.

He steadies his breathing and takes a step forward, legs swaying underneath him. Another step and his shins now touch the edge of the tub, the cold ceramic sending another shiver along his body. 

He puts one foot into the bathtub, gasping when he feels the water touch him. He puts his other foot in as quickly as he can, not letting himself think about what he’s doing. He stands like that for a while, the shock between hot water and the cold air making him quiver.

He lowers himself slowly, inch by inch, until finally he’s on his knees. He’s still trembling, his hands slipping from where he holds the tub in a white-knuckled grip, but his shaking isn’t due to the cold anymore.

He’s trying his best to keep his breathing under control, in through the nose and out through the mouth, just like Alex and Tommy tell him to do when he has nightmares.

He tries his best to rationalize with himself. He knows he’s in no danger, the water isn’t even two feet deep, there’s no current to push him back, no metal chain to keep him down. He just needs to get this over with quickly, so he can go to sleep and forget it even happened in the first place.

He feels tears running down his face, but he pays them no mind, trying to distance himself from his own body as much as he can. And with one last deep breath, he closes his eyes and lets his head fall under the water.

The first thing he notices is the silence, everything is always so quiet underwater. The second thing he notices is that he can’t breathe.

His eyes snap open in panic and, for a moment, he can't see anything. He tries to sit back up, but there’s a weight on his chest that’s keeping him from moving. He tries again, more desperately this time, but still nothing happens, his own body stays completely unresponsive.

His hands start flailing around aimlessly, trying to find something to hold on to. It's no use, everything he reaches is too wet and slippery for him to grab hold of.

He claws at his chest, trying frantically to get rid of the weight that's holding him down. His legs are kicking into nothing, hitting the edge of the tub with bangs that mimic the sounds of Stuka bombs exploding in the sand.

And then it ends abruptly, the weight is gone, there's nothing holding him down anymore. He sits up so quickly he makes himself dizzy, water sloshing over the tub and onto the floor. He coughs out the water that's in his lungs, his whole chest burning painfully.

When he's done he curls in on himself, bringing his leg as close to his chest as he can. He wants so badly to get out. Out of the water, out of this room, but he can't move.

He starts to weep then, the loud dreadful sound echoing heavily in the tiny bathroom. He can barely breathe between each sobs, his lungs still burning, his vision so blurry with tears it feels like he’s back underwater.

He isn’t aware of the world around him anymore, doesn’t even notice when Tommy and Alex burst into the bathroom, his mind focusing solely on the water.

Alex’s stomach drops at the sight that greets him in the bathroom, feeling like his heart is being ripped from his chest at every sob Philippe lets out.

Tommy is the first one to approach him, touching his shoulder gently and calls his name, but it's like they're not even there, the other boy simply curling in tighter on himself as another sob is wrenched out of him.

“We-” Alex’s voice cuts off in a whine, his heart in his throat. “We have to get him out.”

Tommy looks back towards him, eyes filled with tears, and nods. The two of them get on each side of the tub and, as carefully as they can, they lift Philippe out of the water. 

The other boy is like a rag doll between them, his body going completely limp in their arms. If it weren't for his agonizing wails, it would feel like holding a corpse.

They lay him on the floor, clueless as to how they could possibly help him. Alex goes to grab a towel, trying his best to dry Philippe while simultaneously being afraid to touch him.

“We should bring him to bed…” Tommy’s voice is a broken whisper, tears running freely down his cheeks. 

Alex nods, not trusting his own voice.

The two of them lift Philippe up as carefully as they can, but the other boy doesn’t even seem to notice them. His body stays completely limp as they make their way to the bedroom, Philippe’s sobs echoing through the house.

They lay him down in between them, trying to comfort him in any way they can, whispering soft words that go unheard.

Eventually, Philippe cries himself to exhaustion. Alex reaches over him to grab Tommy’s hand in the dark, the younger boy holding onto him tightly. Neither of them get much sleep that night.

Tommy wakes up to the sound of thunder outside their window, dark clouds rolling in the sky. Alex is still sleeping next to him, snoring lightly, and Philippe-

Tommy sits up abruptly, eyes wide as he looks around their bedroom, but the French boy is nowhere to be found. He throws the covers off himself and gets up, the cold floor against his bare feet making him shiver.

He has no idea what time it is, the sun hidden behind storm clouds, but he knows it's still fairly early. He rubs the remains of sleep from his eyes as he looks through the house, growing more and more concerned with every room he finds empty.

He can’t find him anywhere in the house, so Tommy heads for the back door, heart in his throat.

Philippe is sitting in the garden, Édith in his arms, and he watches as the wind blows on the hills, making the wheat sway in a strange kind of dance. He doesn't seem to notice Tommy behind him, and if he does he doesn't acknowledge him.

It's not raining yet, but the air heavy, thunder rumbling louder than before. Tommy looks up at the sky, then back to Philippe again.

He sighs softly and turns around, going back inside the house. He takes his time as he boils water to make some tea, the kettle impossibly loud in the silence of the house. Once it's done he pours it in Philippe’s mug and lets it cool slightly while he goes in the living room to grab a blanket. He goes back in the kitchen, grabs the mug, and heads outside again.

Philippe hasn't moved an inch since he left him. Without a word, he drapes the blanket on the other boy’s shoulder, making sure not to disturb Édith as he does, and gently puts the mug on the ground.

Philippe doesn't thank him, barely even blinks, but Tommy doesn't mind. He doesn't expect him to, not right now. With one last lingering look, the younger man heads back inside, his heart aching. 

He pours himself some tea and goes to sit on the sofa, grabbing a book as he does. 

He's had time to read four chapters by the time he hears the back door open. Tommy tries his best not to react when Philippe enters the living room, keeping his eyes on his book. The other joins him on the sofa, closing his eyes and leaning on him without a word.

Last night had been a harsh reminder that whatever little paradise they’ve built between these walls is only temporary, an illusion of peace they gave themselves to try and ignore the fact that the world is tearing itself apart.

He doesn’t know how long they can last before it all come crumbling down before them, and he hopes, more than anything, that the three of them will pull through, that they will be able to find peace in each other. Fate had chosen them and brought them to be together and, as he looks down at Philippe sleeping next to him, he promises himself he won’t let anything get in between them ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first time writing anything even remotely nsfw I hope it's okay!! baby's first porn omg... next chapter is the last, hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I’ll follow the script as I write this!!  
> The script: These boys don’t talk to each other while they’re on the beach. Alex is an asshole. George and Gibson die.  
> Me: … You know what? Nevermind. (Also rip Dutch seaman, I was too lazy to write you.) (Also also, rip the ‘survival is not fair’ line, you were amazing, but I made Alex take a chill pill before it could happen u_u) (Also, also, also, I know Peter says they’re at Weymouth, not Dover, but I said fuck that)


End file.
